


Dirty Little Freaks

by KellanCougar



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: 13th Century Scotland, F/M, Forced Marriage, Historical Fantasy, Supernatural - Freeform, Vampires, castle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-30
Updated: 2011-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 00:33:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4201083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KellanCougar/pseuds/KellanCougar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 13th century Scotland, two people are forced to marry as strangers, hiding the truth of their marriage from those around them. That is, until the night the freaks came out to play & changed their lives forever. (This story is an homage to the historical works of Barbara Erskine).</p>
<p> </p>
<p> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/150951816@N03/35887049266/in/dateposted-public/"></a><img/></p>
<p> </p>
<p>This was an entry into the Lyrics & Lemons contest. Song choice used: ‘Nobody Owns Me’ performed by Belinda Carlisle.                                 Music and lyrics are the sole property of the writers C.Caffrey/M.Holden/C.Lieberman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Little Freaks

**Prologue**

When Lord Carlisle was told by his Chief Adviser that he needed to take a wife to secure his title and formally claim his ancestral home, his first thought was of his cuckolded father, controlled and suppressed by his overbearing mother.

As a child he had listened as his parents privately bickered and sniped at each other in their loveless marriage, heedless of the small boy hearing everything through the stone wall of the solar. Despite his nurse’s best efforts to distract him, he would bury his head beneath the pile of furs on his mattress and dream of freedom and open spaces where he could ride his horse, free from the shackles of marriage and the subsequent pain and unpleasantness that inevitably followed.

Despite being the figurehead and the Lord of the castle, Carlisle’s father was a weak man who had little control over the day to day running of the estate, barking orders to servants and tradesmen alike to hide his own impotence and shame. His wife had taken a lover, a nobleman with the party from England who visited Scotland several times a year with gifts from the King to secure their ongoing relations. His wife had undertaken relations of her own with the handsome traveller, further undermining Lord Alistair’s standing.

There was no reason at all to believe that their son was not his; the child had his same blond hair and green eyes, and bore a striking resemblance to Alistair’s father, and so his wife’s adultery was overlooked, brushed under the mattress, the Cullen line secure.

Lord Carlisle had no intention of succumbing to the kind of life his parents had endured.

**~xxXxx~**

**Esme’s POV**

My mother woke me herself early that morning, an event so unusual and unexpected that I was immediately alarmed. Whilst my attendants readied my bath, my mother fluttered around, laying out my finest gown and mantle and combing out my long, dark hair with her finest bone comb.

While I was scrubbed and polished, my mind panicked at the reason for all this fuss. Surely we were not having guests? Mother could never keep such a secret from me. Since Father passed away, she and I were all we had; we were fortunate that we had enough money to pay for our two servants as that was all that maintained the illusion of our social standing. I was the daughter of a nobleman; my father had aristocratic blood in his veins and I was his only daughter, his pride and joy. Losing him was the greatest blow I had ever had to bear. Selling what few valuables he had left behind had supported us thus far, but I knew my mother had ideas of improving our social status. And it appeared that today was the day I was to find out just what those ideas entailed.

**~xxXxx~**

I finally found myself dressed in my finest green gown and embroidered girdle, my mother’s only fur mantle around my shoulders. I was grateful for the fur as it hid my shaking limbs as I prepared to face my future.

My mother had shooed the servants outside to tend to the animals, and when we were alone she finally sat me down and broke the news.

“My child, it is all arranged. You are to marry Lord Carlisle! He has seen you in the village and decided that you are the girl for him! Isn’t that exciting? Today you get to formally meet for the first time as a betrothed couple. This is a fine match, my daughter. You will get to live in the castle, and your children will be of noble blood. Everything is falling into place. Now, when he comes today, make your mother proud.”

I was to be married. I always knew this day was coming, but I had dreaded it with all my heart. I had prayed daily to Tara, my goddess of protection, for this day never to occur. I did not want to take a husband, I wanted to be free, free to study and better myself, not become a man’s possession.

_I want to dream my dreams and live them too; do a million things before I’m through. Nobody owns me; I don’t want to be anybody’s fool. No one can make me do what I don’t want to do._

I had never seen Lord Carlisle at close range and so I was unsure if I should even recognise him at close quarters. I hoped that I would not please him, that he would realise he had chosen wrongly. It would break my mother’s heart, but I knew that I could not allow this to happen.

All too soon I heard approach of horses, the jingling of their bridles a calling card to the occupants within. My mother took my hand and led me to the door, her excitement curdling my breakfast in my stomach.

On seeing him I realised that he was far more handsome that I had realised; hair as golden as the grain and eyes as green as the Scottish hills around us. I had also not realised his age – he was 17 summers, strangely old for a Lord to be unmarried. I wondered at the reason; perhaps he had been widowed already, maybe he had lost a wife to childbirth. Or perhaps, just perhaps, he was every bit as against this marriage concept as I.

In the end however, it made no difference. My mother campaigned for a short engagement and a lavish wedding. Given the opportunity I would have championed a long engagement – long enough for him to find someone better suited, and leave me be. A wedding date was set for one month hence – the day of the summer solstice. I was trapped as effectively as a fly in a web, destined to become Lady Esme, married to a man I would barely recognise if I passed him in the village.

At 15, I was by far the oldest of my unmarried friends and destined to become a spinster lady in waiting if my mother had been unsuccessful in her bid.

Privately, I wished she had been.

**~xxXxx~**

**3 YEARS LATER**

Looking back, the wedding was a blur; I remembered that it had rained, the weather matching my mood. At my mother’s behest I had worn the family jewellery, my only contribution to the marriage, save for myself. My gown had been my mother’s, altered to fit my slight frame.  I had no dowry to speak of, but my new husband did not appear to care. Afterward, when we had the opportunity to talk freely, he sat me down and told me the real reason for the marriage and it was then that I realised that he wasn’t interested in me as a mate.

Discovering that I was simply a means to an end, a way to secure his inheritance, should have horrified and disgusted me but, in truth, I was delighted with this news. Explaining my feelings to him, I made him see that I too did not desire a mate, wanting only to be free to study. So it was that we devised a plan to convince the world at large that we were man and wife in every sense when, in all actuality, we lived comfortably as brother and sister, sharing the bed in the solar out of necessity only.

Once we had dismissed the physical aspect of our relationship, we discovered that we were surprisingly compatible. Carlisle enjoyed reading, riding and hawking and, as we were often seen out together with the horses, the townsfolk believed us to be like any other newlywed couple enjoying each other’s company.

Only my mother was perturbed by the lack of a grandchild. Before my wedding she had made sure I knew what was expected of me on my wedding night to please my new husband, and she had advised me on how to endure the necessity of regular intimacy until I had successfully filled my empty belly with a Cullen heir. Her regular visits to check on our progress caused much consternation; each month she would discover my flat, empty belly, eventually insisting I go to visit the local healer. I agreed to go on my own and brushed off her attempts to accompany me.  I would deal with this personally.

Arriving at the old lady’s hut, I called out and waited for admittance. The curtain was pulled back and her wrinkled face looked out before ushering me inside into the smoky room, dropping the heavy curtain behind us. I explained I was there because of my mother’s concern at my barren condition. The old crone looked at me sharply.

“Child, are you here because you desire a bairn, or because you desire to please your mother?”

“Is there a difference? I am expected to bear an heir and my mother would prefer it be sooner rather than later. I think she fears for my marriage – something I do not fear at all.”

“Have you made offerings to your goddess, child, for surely she will help you in your plight.”

I was able to answer honestly to that one.

“I have indeed, Wise One. Many, many offerings have been made and I am sure she is listening to me.”    

_Tara has made this marriage suitable for my needs. She has indeed kept her side of the bargain._

“Then all I can do is to give you a conception potion. This is powerful magic; the herbs were all picked at the height of the last full moon and blessed by the goddess, Brigit.  Drink an infusion of this at the midpoint of your cycle – it will help your belly quicken.”

She leaned in closely, her piercing eyes effectively pinning me to my seat.

“And stay away from pennyroyal, artemisia, willow and rue. They will prevent pregnancy, and that’s not what we are after now, is it?”

I shook my head mutely, wondering how strong her rumoured powers actually were. It concerned me that she seemed to see inside my head and I stood quickly, grasping my unwanted pouch of herbs. I offered her the coins I had brought and she bit them before accepting, shooing me out of her hut and into the bright light outside.

As I travelled slowly back to the castle, unnoticed in my shabby disguise, I thought over what the old crone had said and decided to tell Carlisle about it, lest he be questioned at any point by my mother, although that event was unlikely as she avoided him wherever possible. Not surprising when all she wanted to talk to me about was ‘women’s business’.

As I approached the courtyard to the castle, I retrieved the carrot from my pocket, quickly shrugging off my old mantle and stowing it in its hiding place. I made my way to the stable to see my favourite horse, Firefly, brandishing her favourite treat that Alice has given me from the kitchen. I saw the stable hand mucking out across the yard and smiled tentatively. He was a handsome man, huge in stature and with hands the size of hams but so gentle with the horses. And yet, when we had visitors their horses seemed terrified of him, bucking and rearing until their own men settled them down. I found this strange, and I mentally added it to a list of other strange occurrences I had witnessed around the castle.

I had noticed early on in the marriage that something was not quite right in the castle. Our staff were very polite, respectful and discreet, for surely they knew of mine and Carlisle’s arrangement. How could they not? But they were unusual and definitely fitted into the ‘strange’ category.

At first I believed them to be related as they all had eyes of amber that occasionally darkened to almost black. I wondered how they appeared to change colour and decided that it must just be how I perceived them on bright days and dull days. When I curiously enquired of my maid, Alice, if she were related to the others, she merely bobbed her head, confirming in a quiet voice that she was married to my husband’s manservant, Jasper Whitlock. Such an unusual name, but the boy was certainly attractive and he and Alice were doubtless well suited. She cleared away my breakfast bowl and, after asking if I needed anything more, backed out of the room.

I sighed. I had no friends, no one to ride with, save my maid and husband. It was expressly forbidden for me to leave the castle unattended; ludicrous considering how I had lived before my marriage. Now I wore fine gowns and mantles – fancy fripperies in exchange for my freedom.

Reaching the stable, I held out the carrot on my palm, her whiskery lips taking it so gently, her crunching echoing around the building. Hearing steps behind me, I started.

“So sorry, my lady, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Turning, I saw the broad shoulders of Emmett, the stable hand, blocking out the sunlight from the open door. Relaxing somewhat, I turned to him with a smile.

“She looks good. She’s exercising and eating well?” I stroked my mount’s neck, ruffling her mane as she blew happily on my face.

“Yes, my lady, she is in fine shape. Will you be riding later with his Lordship?”

“Yes, Emmett, when his Lordship has finished his business we will be riding. Have her saddled in an hour for me?”

He nodded and went back to his duties.

Watching him walk away, I remembered the time a wheel had broken on a visitor’s cart. The cart was loaded full of provisions and it took two horses to pull it, and yet I had watched Emmett lift it clear of the broken wheel and replace it. There had been no other witnesses and I wondered if I had dreamed it.

Other strange occurrences around the castle included a spat that broke out amongst the kitchen staff which was settled wordlessly and silently. One moment an argument was in full swing, the next it was as if the fight had never happened, everyone immediately calming and going about their business. Alice, my maid, could predict when visitors were coming, and Edward, our cook, answered questions that hadn’t been asked.

It was eerie. 

One night, several days after my visit to the old crone, I had a disturbing dream.

In it I saw my lady in waiting, Rosalie Hale, a picture of beauty and grace, always so respectful and dutiful. Only she did not look elegant and ethereal in my dream; I saw her filthy, feral and blood smeared. I woke, gasping in terror, on the verge of screaming.

I told Carlisle in the morning and he suggested I rest. I saw the worry in his kind, green eyes, as if he believed I were under a curse or something similar and, sure enough, later that day a healer came to visit to cast out any demons that resided within me. I didn’t talk, but I knew there was nothing wrong with me – it was the staff that were wrong in some way.

The next night I had the dream again, longer this time. Rosalie was looking directly at me in the dream, licking her fingers; the little dark haired scullery maid, Bella, next to her laughing as she licked the blood from her arms before I woke again, gasping for air.

Climbing out of the bed I made my way to the window in our tower room, my nightgown fluttering around my feet on the stone flags. The moon was full, the grounds lit as if it were day. Peering out, I heard strange noises below and I craned my neck to see further.

What I saw took my breath away.

 The servants were running impossibly fast across the hill behind the castle, laughing and... were they _playing?_ I could hear their whoops and cries as they tackled each other to the ground and then, to my disbelief, they began to disrobe, casting their clothing to the ground and cavorting under the moon as naked as the day they were born. As I watched, I saw my lady in waiting and the stable hand fornicating against a tree, the sound of splintering wood reaching my ears on the wind. I heard their laughs as the tree collapsed and they continued their act on the grass, their grunts and moans as audible to me as if they were in the same room.

I saw the cook and the scullery maid in some ungodly pose, their bodies topping and tailing as they rolled around in the tall grass, engrossed in each other.

My head spun. This was what my mother had told me about? This was the thing a wife was supposed to ‘endure’? Rosalie didn’t look like she was enduring anything, especially when she pinned Emmett to the ground and began to writhe her hips over him, his enormous appendage buried within her most intimate parts. As she tormented the big man beneath her, my eyes slid to my maid. Little Alice had her legs wrapped around Jasper’s waist and was bouncing as if at a full gallop. And she was _laughing_ as he suckled at her breast like a hungry baby.

_They are devil spawn. I knew something wasn’t right._

As I watched them they suddenly stopped what they were doing and, as one, turned to face my window.

My breath caught as six pairs of eyes were trained on me in that moment. But then I felt something... odd. I felt hot, as if I had just climbed from my bath. My breasts felt swollen, their tips tender and sensitive under my gown. Unaware of my actions, I brushed my hand over them and moaned at the jagged spikes of pleasure that danced across my body and down between my legs. I held tightly to the ledge as my breathing came in rough gasps, wave upon wave of heat hitting me and turning my legs to water. I touched my thighs, running my hands over my flesh until it was no longer enough. Standing shakily, I pulled my gown over my head, the night air cool against my overheated flesh. I felt as if I had taken too much mead, my bones feeling loose and malleable, and my body craving something I couldn’t identify.

It wasn’t until my hand drifted between my legs that I found some relief, the hot flesh leaping at that first touch of my inexperienced fingers. My cries were loud enough to rouse my husband who, on waking, stared at me as if I were bewitched.

But then the strange wave of heat hit him too, and he crossed the floor to me, removing his sleeping garments and throwing them to the ground heedlessly. His eyes found mine and I saw a heat in them that had never been there before. His hands touched my bare flesh for the very first time and I felt my body cry out for him, a need that could not be denied.

_Was this how it was meant to be?_

His warm hands cupped my breasts, squeezing them tightly, making me moan. As I watched out of the window, I felt his body heat behind me and something hard pressing against my buttocks; there was wetness on my thighs that I couldn’t explain. My legs were pressing together as I watched the servants fornicate, my body now more than eager to copy them. Jasper still stared up at us, even as he and Alice bucked and writhed together. I whimpered and pushed back against Carlisle’s hard body, silently asking for what I needed. I didn’t understand it, but I knew I had to have it or die.

My husband kissed my neck, sweeping my hair to one side to gain access to a sensitive spot beneath my ear. When he found it my head fell back, and Carlisle’s lips finally found my own for the first time since our wedding. But this was no innocent newlywed kiss, this was heated and passionate. We were devouring each other like animals, grunting and moaning as our hands slid over sweaty flesh, finding new places to touch and explore.

I bent over the ledge, my hands gripping tight as I looked back at him under my lashes. I had seen the animals do it this way and at that moment I was no longer a woman, I was a common beast in the field to be rutted by the male. As I watched him over my shoulder, I saw Carlisle take himself in hand and prepare to mount me. Somewhere inside my mind I was terrified, but the fear was eclipsed by raw need. As he pressed into me I felt a tearing and screamed, but then the pain ceased and I felt him in me fully, his body flush against mine.

While both of us watched the servants he started to move, slowly at first, both of us finding our way uncertainly. But he got bolder and his thrusts grew in power, pounding into me, my breasts flattened against the cold stone even as I pressed back against him in encouragement.

The combination of the dizzying heat, his strong body and our mutual passion was enough to make me cry out as an explosion happened within me, stars blooming behind my closed lids. I heard his harsh cry and felt warmth as he discharged inside me before sliding away, our coupling complete.

His lips found mine once again and I fell willingly into his waiting arms.

_No, nobody owns me._

_Nobody but you._

As I looked one last time, I saw the servants disappear at supernatural speed into the moonlit night.

The following morning there was plenty of fresh meat for the castle.

And all the servants had startling amber eyes.

**~xxXxx~**

<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hYbODzB1nic>

 

 

 

 


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